Back to Tomorrow

by Back To Tomorrow(Lit)

  "Good morning, Miss Dennison. Lovely day, isn't it?"

  "Yes, beautiful. I've been indoors all morning and hadn't noticed until just now. This is my first chance today to step outside. I missed you at breakfast, and at supper last night, too."

  She could have bitten her tongue, coming out with such a forward comment. He'd probably take her remark the wrong way, too. Young women were supposed to be shy and modest in 1889, and let on in only the subtlest ways that they might be interested in a young gentleman. She wasn't interested anyway, not really. She'd barely begun to recover from Rich's untimely death.

  Emily gave herself a mental shake. I need to cure this hoof in mouth disease before it gets me in trouble. What is there about Zachary Tremaine that makes me a chatterbox?

  "I ran into Cavendish this morning and we went for a ride. He told me you had a run-in with Jake McEuen last night. He thought Jake had come around just to see you, a new lady in town. That would be like him."

  "McEuen is a nasty, odious man! And he's the one who's holding your sister, isn't he?" She glanced at Zach, eager to confirm her recollection. Zach nodded. Emily saw a frown creased his brow.

  "Yes, he is. And she's deathly afraid of him. I found yesterday that they're living in Charleston. I even talked to her a bit. She's reluctant to go home now, because of the baby. I told her she could pass as a widow back in Pennsylvania and no one would think ill of her."

  "I..." Emily stopped herself, realizing she was about to make another inappropriate remark. How could things have changed so greatly in 111 years? In 2000, almost as many young women had babies without husbands as with, or so she'd noticed. And nobody thought much about the matter. "I'd be glad to go and talk to her if you think that might help."

  "Pardon me?" Zach looked at her, apparently having gone off into his own thoughts for a moment and not having heard her remark.

  "I said I'd be glad to go talk with her if you think that could help. Another woman-maybe she'd be willing to listen to what I told her."

  "Perhaps. I'll go back myself in the next day or two. And I think we can send messages back and forth. Angelina's family lives next door to Mary Ann. I met two of Angelina's little brothers yesterday and her mother."

  When they turned to enter the store, Zach sprang ahead to open the door for her. Emily recalled one of the reasons she was so drawn to the past. In 1889, at least some men still believed in the male duty of chivalry. Less fortunate, most of them were also complete chauvinists!

  Zach followed at Emily's heels as she picked out the items Nellie wanted and took them to the counter. After she signed the chit Nellie would settle at the month's end, Mr. Lin carefully stacked everything in the basket.

  Of course Zach insisted on carrying the basket back. He also maneuvered to walk on the outer edge of the boardwalk, shielding Emily from some of the dirt slung up by passing horses and any other potential dangers from the street.

  As they passed one of the saloons, someone urged a horse up to the hitching rack and swung down. The rider flipped the reins around the pole and pushed his way in front of them. Both Emily and Zach recognized the rude man at the same instant. Joker Jake. He gave them a nasty glare and stalked on into the bar, but he didn't say anything.

  An involuntary shiver slipped down Emily's spine. There was something cold and malignant about the gambler's flat black eyes, the sneering twist of his thin lips and even the way he moved. She felt sure he was a bully. Bullies were normally cowards but delighted in mistreating those who were weaker or lower in status than they thought themselves to be. That was certainly Jake's way with poor Mary Ann, and from his attitude, Jake lumped her and Zach into the same category.

  "That man gives me the creeps," Emily muttered as they walked on past the saloon doors. "He makes me think of a snake, that cold, soulless expression he has."

  "Oh, he's all of that," Zach responded. "All of that and more. He beats Mary Ann-I saw old bruises all over her face and Angelina's mother said he was even more vicious when he's drinking."

  "I expect getting Mary Ann away from him and out of town won't be an easy task," Emily ventured. "But since she is often home alone, perhaps we can come up with something."

  "There is no 'we' in this." Zach's tone was adamant. "Mary Ann is my sister and my concern, though of course if Jake bothers you again, I shall feel obliged to take care of that, as well. He fancies himself a ladies' man, though I cannot imagine why."

  "Nor can I," Emily said. "I see nothing attractive about the man at all. He has a cruel, ugly face and he's dirty, grasping, vicious, a drunkard and a scoundrel. The world would be well relieved of the burden should he have a fatal accident!"

  She reached across and tugged at the basket's handle. "If Mary Ann's rescue is solely your job, then Nellie's shopping is solely mine and I must take charge of it."

  "I may not know many people here that well, but I would be greatly shamed were I to be seen walking with you and allowing you to bear the burden. Why, this basket must weight at least twenty pounds."

  "I can carry that much! Why, when I worked in the library, I sometimes carried boxes of books weighing as much as fifty pounds. I may be rather small but I'm no weakling!"

  Zach's sudden stop alerted her, and his intense stare compounded her awareness. He didn't agree with the notion of her doing the work and was apparently shocked to hear she could carry fifty pounds.

  "Well," he huffed. "You needn't do that here and I don't want to hear any more. As for helping Mary Ann, of course I will listen if you have any ideas, but the work must be carried out by me. I will not have you endangered needlessly by taking any part in this action."

  Emily snatched the basket. She turned sharply away, grabbed the doorknob and spun it fiercely, flinging the door wide. She stamped into Nellie's public parlor, which opened onto the street, and started to slam the door shut behind her. Then she recalled her manners enough to look back and say "Thank you for your company, Mr. Tremaine."

  She didn't wait for a reply, but scurried off to the kitchen, grinning in spite of herself at the priceless expression on Zach's face. He was apparently too stunned to move-still. If he expected her to be a weak little clinging vine sort of woman, he had another think coming!

  ~*~

  There was so much to do. Emily hadn't dreamed how much time was required to do all the homely chores machinery and technology made much easier in her world. No dishwashers, no microwaves, no vacuum cleaners, no automatic washers. Every day, she and Angelina dusted, swept and mopped, washed a mountain of dishes after each meal, and ran up and down the street to the laundry, operated by another Chinese man and his wife, with great bundles of sheets and towels that had to be washed. The tasks had no end.

  Keeping busy helped, but at odd times she still worried. How had her disappearance affected Carol? What if she had her baby early? Though the infant might survive, the care of a preemie was costly and difficult. And had anyone notified Aunt Faith? At those times, tears crowded her eyes and her throat ached with them, for there was truly nothing she could do, no way to ease the concerns of those she'd left behind. Whether she'd ever be able to return to the present or not, she had no way to know.

  She recalled there had always been stories of mysterious disappearances, people who simply vanished as if into thin air, leaving not a trace. Had they somehow fallen through a hole into the past, just as she had? Or would she still awaken to find all of this was only a dream?

  Emily sighed, hefted another bundle of dirty linen and headed out the back door. Angelina had showed her a shortcut to the laundry, which was on the next street south of Allen and a block and a half west. No time to wonder, really, and no time to form a plan about how she might go home...if indeed it were possible.

  For now, she was here, and she must make lemonade of the lemons she had collected, live this life to the hilt and maybe, just maybe serve a purpose for which she'd been drawn back through time.

  She'd looked in vain for Zach but had seen no more than glimp
ses of him for several days. At least she had no more encounters with Jake McEuen. That was a relief. Yet an ominous dread hung over her, like the threat of a storm or the eerie calm before an earthquake. She just knew something was about to happen.

  ~*~

  May 14, 1889

  A timid, scratchy tap on the back door snagged Emily's attention. Once they'd finished putting out food for the noon meal, she'd returned to the kitchen to fill plates for herself and Angelina. She halted in mid-motion. What in the world was that noise?

  She set the plates down sharply on the hardwood sideboard, wincing when she realized she could easily have broken them. Opening the door to the alley, she looked out to see a young boy of perhaps nine or ten.

  "Senora, are you la Senora Nellie? I need to speak to Angie, er, to Angelina, por favor."

  "No, I'm Emily, but I'll get Angelina for you. Who shall I say is calling?"

  The boy looked up at her, dusky face crinkling into an expression of total confusion. "Senora?"

  "I'm teasing," Emily said quickly. "You're one of Angelina's brothers, aren't you?"

  The boy nodded, beaming at her recognition. "Si, ah si. Ella es mi hermana."

  "Come in out of the hot sun. Angelina will be here in a minute."

  The boy crept in, hesitant steps revealing his shyness. He stopped, barely inside the door, eyeing the laden table with amazement. His eyes bugged at the sight of so much food.

  "Are you hungry?" Emily asked.

  The boy started to nod, then quickly shifted to shaking his head.

  "Of course you are. Here, I'll fix you a plate."

  Before Emily could fill a third plate for the boy, Angelina flounced in, setting her tray down with a bang. Her face was rose-red and her eyes shot sparks.

  "That horrible man," she hissed. "Ooooo, I hate him! He is a pig!"

  Emily instinctively knew who she meant. "Jake? Mr. McEuen?"

  "Yes, the awful man who lives beside mi familia in Charleston, the gambler. He came in and when I took him a plate, he tried to grab my bottom! I hate the feel of his filthy hands! I ought to..."

  At that moment, Angelina saw her brother. "Chuy! What are you doing here? Is Mama sick or was Papa hurt in the mill?"

  "No, hermana mia. It is lady with the fire-hair, she is sick. Mama say to come and get the man, the one who came the other day. The fire-hair lady say he is her brother, but not to call him. But outside, mama told me to come anyway."

  Emily listened to the boy's breathless story with growing anxiety. He had to be speaking of Mary Ann. "Does he mean Zach? Is Mr. Tremaine in the dining room?"

  "I did not see him," Angelina admitted "But I will go and look again."

  While she was gone, Emily handed the boy his plate. "Here, eat quickly in case we have to go."

  "Muchas gracias, senorita. I thank you very much."

  Angelina returned, shaking her head, her face very pale.

  "No, Mr. Tremaine is not there. What shall we do, Emily? I know that bad man, Mr. Jake, often comes home drunk and yells a lot. Later we can hear his wife crying, and I think he hits her many times. From what Chuy says, I think he did it again last night. Now she is sick and might lose her baby. That would be terrible. What should we do?" Angelina's black eyes were round and inky with distress.

  "Mama is with her," Chuy assured. "She took the fire-haired one to our house, and gave her some medicamento, but she say something about el doctor, too."

  Apparently hearing their anxious voices, Nellie bustled in to see what was going on. Since Emily didn't know if Zach had mentioned his sister to his hostess, she explained as best she could. Obviously he hadn't, for Nellie seemed surprised.

  "Good gracious! I wish young Mr. Tremaine had spoken of this to me. We could have her here already and thus averted this tragedy."

  She looked sharply at the lad, who was wiping up the last of the gravy on his plate.

  "Where is the bad man, Mr. McEuen? Is he at home?"

  "Oh no, senora. He left this morning on his black horse and probably came back here to play cards and drink whiskey."

  "He is here, eating," Angelina said. "He was almost too late to get served." Emily noticed spots of color came back in Angelina's cheeks, but she did not complain to Nellie about Jake's treatment. Well, Emily herself hadn't, either.

  Nellie hesitated. She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, then seemed to reach a decision.

  "Emily, you and Angelina must take the wagon, the one we use to go to Benson for supplies. It's at the stable and so is my gelding. Can you drive a horse?"

  Emily thought fast. She'd ridden quite a bit as a teenager, which was not the same as driving, but she figured she could in a pinch. "A bit, I've not had much practice, but I think I can manage if your horse isn't too lively." She restrained a grin at the idea of bragging she could handle a team of over 100-whatever the horsepower of her car was. There was no way Nellie or Angelina would catch the joke.

  "He's a good, obedient horse. Mr. Keen will help you hitch him up. Take the wagon and bring this poor girl back here. While you're gone, I'll try to find the doctor and sober him up."

  "I surely hope we don't run into Mr. McEuen." Emily restrained a shudder, recalling Jake's malevolent glare when he pushed past her and Zach a few days before. "He might take exception to our interference."

  "Since Mr. McEuen is here, I'll make sure he's kept occupied, and if Mr. Tremaine shows up, I'll send him after you. Hurry now. If matters are as grave as they sound, there's no time to lose."

  Nellie's bay seemed to think it peculiar they turned down the southwest road to Charleston instead of heading north toward Benson. He looked back at his strange driver as if to say, "Do you really know what you're doing?" But, in spite of that, he started off at a brisk trot and willingly enough obeyed Emily's hesitant signals on the reins.

  Seated in the wagon bed behind her, Angelina and her brother kept up a brisk chatter. They spoke half in Spanish and the rest in English, enough that Emily could follow most of what they said.

  The journey to Charleston took just over an hour. As they wound down off the hills to the little settlement, straggling along the riverbank, Angelina directed Emily to the far end and her family's home. When they got there, a younger boy came running out, soon followed by his mother.

  "We came, Mama," Chuy cried. "The lady, Senora Nellie, she said we take her wagon and get the sick one." He chattered on, talking too fast for Emily to make sense of his words.

  Finally Angelina interrupted to introduce Emily. Once she had a chance, Emily questioned Mrs. Gonzales about Mary Ann. The woman's worried frown indicated all was not well, which raised the level of Emily's anxiety.

  Mrs. Gonzales spoke English well enough, but slowly, as if she had to translate before speaking. "She still has pain. No more bleeding right now, but much pain. She is not strong like we are or used to a hard life. She needs a doctor. It would be better if he would come here, but I know he will not, so you must take her to him instead."

  Twisting her hands in distress, she sighed deeply. "La Pobrecita. Her man is brutal and I think this time he went too far. It will be a miracle if she lives, to say nothing of the babe."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Indignation filled Emily at the other woman's words. "I'll see that he pays for his wickedness," she vowed, setting her jaw in grim determination. "But getting Mary Ann to help is the first priority. May I come in and see her?"

  Mrs. Gonzales led Emily into the house, the boys and Angelina following close behind. Mary Ann lay on a pallet in a corner of the Gonzales' living room. A black eye and a livid bruise on the opposite cheek marred her face. Her lips were swollen, one split as if by a blow, and there was a cut on her jaw, where perhaps a ring had torn the flesh. The rest of the poor girl's body, Emily felt sure, bore marks equal if not worse.

  She could hardly contain her rage. Had Jake McEuen ridden up at that moment, she would have torn a fencepost out of the ground to beat him with! Emily wished at the moment she was back
in 2000 instead of 1889. In her era, domestic violence was a serious crime for which a brute like McEuen could be arrested and jailed. Here, such punishment was most unlikely. Even if Mary Ann died, no one would be willing to pronounce it murder. In fact, hardly anyone would consider interfering in a couple's affairs, no matter how badly the husband or lover behaved.

  Although the task took all five of them to manage, they carried Mary Ann out, pallet and all, and settled her in the wagon bed. She whimpered a little at the jostling, but tried to be brave, in spite of being scared and clearly in pain. Once they'd made Mary Ann as comfortable as possible, Emily scrambled onto the wagon, followed by Angelina, and they started back to town.

  The horse was not so fresh now, but he still moved along at a good clip, even though the first half of the journey was up a stiff grade. As they traveled, both Emily and Angelina kept a look out for a rider on a black horse but none appeared. They only passed two riders, one on a sorrel and the other on a buckskin, and an old buckboard, driven by a young boy and drawn by a gaunt paint.

  It was dusk but not yet dark when Emily drove into the alley behind Nellie's and halted the horse. Before Angelina could run to fetch her, Nellie herself appeared at the back door. Like the good general she was, she took charge at once. She shanghaied two of the roomers into duty to carry Mary Ann upstairs to a vacant room and sent Angelina to fetch the doctor from the dining room.

  Nellie said she had plied him with coffee for two hours to clear at least some of the alcohol fumes from his brain. When he came lumbering upstairs, Nellie shooed Emily and Angelina from the room. She told them they were in charge of dinner since she was going to be occupied.

  Stew was to be the evening's entree, a dish Emily felt she could prepare. She and Angelina busied themselves peeling and cutting up potatoes, dicing carrots, celery and onions and cutting beef into neat cubes. They soon had a savory pot bubbling on the stove, although both of them had trouble concentrating on the task. Their hearts and thoughts were with the poor girl upstairs.